


They don't get to choose where they fuck

by ChocoNut



Series: Modern JB love [37]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, jealous brienne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Pissed off to find Jaime dancing the night away with a stranger, Brienne decides to leave the party. Only, Jaime has plans of his own.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Modern JB love [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557871
Comments: 10
Kudos: 95





	They don't get to choose where they fuck

It would have been an engaging evening if Jaime had not been close dancing with some strange woman who just wouldn’t let go of him. 

Brienne had tried to pretend it didn’t bother her, lifting her glass to take casual sips whenever his eyes caught her attention. Piercing, like he wanted to cut her down, they sliced through her, but he did nothing to shake his lovely companion off. She looked away, focussing on Sansa and Margaery, hoping a diversion might help her cool down, but—nothing.

Eyes on him again within no time, and she lost the thread of the conversation, forcing an awkward laugh when someone around cracked a joke. She was back to glaring at the man who wouldn’t leave her mind and body alone—her nipples stiffening when she pictured those strong arms around her, those hands squeezing her breasts, those warm fingers deep in her cunt, curling around her seeking, probing, providing—

Her stomach did a lurch when she knew she was going to get nowhere. Deciding to slink out of there and resort to solitary pleasure behind the closed doors of her privacy, she mumbled a quick excuse to her friends and slipped away, heading downstairs to the parking lot. 

And the journey seemed to take forever.

When, at last, she unlocked her car and was about to get in, a hand stopped her, pressing the door firmly shut. “Where do you think you’re hurrying to, wench?”

She forced herself to keep calm. “None of your business.”

His eyes on hers, Jaime got closer. And her efforts were undone—she was getting hot under her dress. “You’re upset with me.” He stepped into her personal space and she could feel her breathing quickening. A throbbing ache deep within her cunt, a rush of heat pooling at the pit of her belly—she met her arousal with trepidation, worried something might give away her desperate state. “So I do have a right to—”

“Had enough of that pretty young thing who refused to leave you alone?” she barked, not bothering to keep the venom off her tone. “Why are you here instead of gyrating away in her arms?”

He smiled at her and cornered her against the door. “She’s not my type.”

She caught a whiff of his cologne, the sensation going beyond her lungs and somewhere deep within her. “What is your type then? Some other beauty—”

He fell into her, his mouth on hers, no warning, no— _nothing_ , except kisses, deep and needy. This was so hot. A feeling indescribable. The sounds of her frantic breathing sailed through the silence when he dropped his hand to her breasts, while his other hand freely roamed her butt. So fucking sexy he was. And so good he tasted—as delicious as he smelt. His mouth and hands working her with expertise, he swept her off her feet, leaving her dizzy, swooning like a medieval princess in his arms. Her heart began pounding when his hungry mouth slid down to her neck, when his hands left no place he could reach, untouched, parting every bit of clothing he met, sliding away the sleeves and yanking down the straps to fondle her beneath her bra. When he nudged aside the lacy strip of her underwear, pushing it out of his way, her fingers found themselves in his hair, her nails dragging down his back.

“I prefer tall leggy wenches,” he breathed, warm gushes of his air, bringing her nipples to life. “I only danced with her because you were busy with pretty boy.”

“Renly?” she squealed, when his palm closed over her breast, her stomach clenching with arousal when he squeezed her hard. “He means nothing—”

Before she could finish, he dragged her to the nearest door, and pushing it open, they stumbled inside. A janitor’s cupboard, probably—she looked around when he flipped the light switch on, but he gave her no time to dwell on the unwanted, his hand snaking between her thighs and stroking her, getting her sodden panties out of the way.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for ages,” he rumbled in her ear, the heavy intent in his tone lifting her to the craziest point of her arousal.

Dropping her purse, she kicked her shoes away, and before long, her dress was around her waist, bra, bundled along with it. Her panties off the way, she found herself shoved against the wall, his strapping frame holding her in place, the cold hard surface against her back a stark contrast to his warm chest pushing into hers. Spreading her legs apart, he pushed his finger into her. Twisting and curious, he embarked on a journey within her. She gasped into his mouth and bucked her hips against his hand, only for his lips to claim hers with vengeance, his finger pumping back and forth, the pleasure making her writhe and squeal.

If this was just the magic of his hand, what would she do when he— 

Her mind buzzing, she couldn’t think, her knees caving in, she couldn’t stand, dizzy and aching in anticipation of what was to come. She slid one leg up his side, giving him room, wrapping herself in his embrace, her foot brushing his steely hardness, her big toe kissing his bulge, moving up and down. She rubbed and caressed him, her fumbling hands struggling with his belt and trousers while he fucked her with his finger. 

The zip and belt out of her way, she shoved down his pants and boxers to a crumpled mess around his ankles. Her mouth seeking his again, she curled her fingers around his ample girth. His trembling body shivered against hers when she ran a finger along his length, his groan traveling down her throat when she pressed her thumb to his throbbing tip. Withdrawing his drenched finger, he ran it over her folds, searching, seeking out, and when he had found her pulsating clit, a firm rub, he punished it with, a caress, a massage until it gave up, engorged with her arousal, and she gave in, holding onto him with her soft moans filling the room.

Deciding he had tortured her enough, he pulled away to examine his doing, his eyes wandering her body before rising to meet her gaze. _Now,_ she thought, and reading her mind, he hoisted the leg she’d been tormenting him with and stepped between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” she whimpered, when he slid into her, her leg in his firm grasp. He teased her, he played with her, his thumb on her clit, his mouth claiming her breast. She squirmed and writhed, pushed backwards, then into him, her cunt sucking his cock in, swallowing it, devouring it with an insatiable hunger. 

“Hard and rough, Jaime!” 

Tense and tight, and burning wet for him, she held him within, his girth, snug, in her grasp.

He was in here. With her. Not in some simpering stranger's arms. _Hers_.

He pulled out, then dug back in again, his strokes, slow at first, deliberate, as if defying her need. Her cunt, demanding, refused to settle for his gentleness, this gentlemanliness irking her, driving her nuts.

Just as her frustration started to mount, it began. _He_ began.

His palm resting on the wall behind her for support, he rammed into her with all he could. Pushing, then withdrawing. Plunging, then releasing. Hot and furious, leaving her shuddering and shaking against him with every shove of his hips. Setting her on fire with every thrust, dragging her with him, sweeping her away and tearing her apart, his thrusts becoming maddeningly hectic. He went in, and she met him, her rolling hips to mate with every pushing stroke, and soon they were fucking as if they’d been doing it every night. It was crude and rough. It was heaven. It was torment and agony and it was bliss and fulfilment. The sound of sex— the heavy breathing, the sucking and moaning, the sighing and whimpering, the slapping of flesh on flesh, the squishing sounds of wetness—it was all simply mind-blowing, the possibility of being discovered, upping the excitement by several notches.

“Fuck,” he cried, biting her lip, blasting her senses out of bounds.

Her pleasure, building steadily, her excitement soaring, she rose, up and above, blinded by him—these sensations. 

She felt it escalate. 

He plundered her lips, pinched her nipples, ravaged her clit—and her eyes closed, she took it all, her desperate hands roaming his body, ripping a button or two of his shirt. She felt his fingers in her hair. She felt him clutch and grab the back of her neck, pulling her closer, pushing into her.

She was sinking, drowning, deep, deep, thrashing and trembling—

Arching her back, she came down on him with a loud cry of his name, her climax piercing through the silence of the basement. He kept hammering into her, his grip on her leg, iron manacles. His thrusts become frantic, forgetting their rhythm, his grunts, wild and feral. He was a bucking, thrashing wild mess of a man—a lion in a mating dance with his lioness, his raspy chants of her name ringing out loud and desperate in the closed confines of this underground room. 

Lost in the quest of his own release, he dragged his hand down her front, groping her breasts and stroking away, kissing her, then drawing away, fiercely, urgently, and when he could stand it no more, he let go of her and pulled out with a jerk. She took him in her hands. She went up and down that hard thick shaft, sliding back and forth, stroking and caressing, from balls to tip, easing him, teasing him, egging him on and provoking him until he roared away into his peak and erupted into her hands.

“Now what?” he panted, done and drained and smelling of sex and sweat and expensive cologne.

Breathing in the scent of his orgasm, Brienne snuggled closer, her fingers teasing the buttons on his shirt. “Now we get the rest of your clothes off.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
